When you’ve worked hard to
capture the spirit of early
America, you may want
everything for your holiday feast to be
right, right down to the right spoon at
the right of each plate. That can be
both a challenge and a curse. Only
hard-core reenactors regularly put up
with the real dirt and grit of times
foregone, and no one wants to dip into
a communal pot. But putting a set of
Jensen Danish Modern silver on a
table used by Puritan forebears may be
more heresy that your primitive spirit
can tolerate. You want to keep the traditions
of early America in your modern
holiday table setting.

When we thought about getting it
right, we went right to the source. We
surveyed period museums including
Colonial Williamsburg, Conner Prarie,
Plimoth Plantation, and Winterthur for
their advice on chronologically correct
table settings. But with a quick assay, we
discovered that even the wealth of the
most successful Virginia planter could
not afford today’s prices of the originals
used by the poorest New England grub
farmer. And you’d need a lot of it.

“If you were expecting company,
say if the minister stopped by, you
would put your best broadcloth on the
table, but the hostess would be at her
very best if the tablecloth were hardly
visible,” says Joyce Newby, program
supervisor for foodways at Conner
Prairie in Fishers, Indiana. Moreover,
we would not want to risk irreplaceable
museum pieces even on holiday
gastronomic challenges. Not to mention
that lead glazes, dubious preservatives,
and a centuries-old collection
of microorganisms make putting even
the simplest antique utensil in the
mouth a potential challenge to the
modern health care system.

On the table, we determined that to
share a meal we would have to tolerate—
even encourage—the use of
reproductions. But once we made that
step, we needed to be sure we were
trodding a path as close to the original
as possible. Can you, with relatively
modest means and access only to the
output of current hands, mimic the
cutlery and dishes of days gone by?
With the help of friends at the Seraph,
we determined not to show you the
mere possibility, but to have this
primer in creating a period table with
accessible but accurate handmade
reproduction goods.

American history, of course, spans
more than twenty generations, each with
its own tastes and technology. Even if
we divide the embryonic years of our
nation into a few periods, we see definite
differences in the tools of the table. To
give a taste of each, we present five
takes on the early American table, two
from its most primitive years, two from
the emerging nation, and one of the
more refined colony, not certain whether
to nip its ties with the motherland.”

TREEN

Woodenware or treen not only looks
primitive, it is the most primitive
tableware in nearly any culture. Notes
Debbie Harper, curator of education at
Winterthur, “Woodenware is
extremely common because it was
readily available.” The only raw materials
needed were a supply of trees,
which the earliest colonies had in
abundance. A simple plank might do
for moving or serving meat or fish in
the roughest home, although soup
could be a challenge. But a little handwork
quickly yields bowls, even cups.

A primitive lathe helps set a refined
table—smoothly spun plates, dishes,
and bowls. In the same period, other
natural items might complete the
table. Horn yields cups and scoops. A
slice of slate makes a server or plate.
Be as creative as your foremothers.

Treen is appropriate for any period
from the earliest colonial times—you
might even find a wooden mixing bowl
in a modern kitchen. But for an accurate
representation of a seventeenthcentury
table, treen would not be out of
place in any but the most elegant home.”

As shown at left, treen
is appropriate to very early colonial and primitive homes.
Hard-carved treen dishes are available from many sources. These
are manufactured reproductions distressed by the Seraph to match
period style. The horn drinking cups are by Four Hands; the
hanging utensils in the background by Madison Bay. The bread, by
the Sturbridge Bakery, rests on rough slate.

DELFT

By colonial times much of Europe had
been denuded of its forests. (New
sources of supply—especially for navies—was one of the chief reasons
overseas nations greedily eyed this new
land.) Delft was one alternative to
woodenware. “Delft tried to represent
the Chinese look as a cheap alternative
to porcelain,” says Susan Cook, chief
curator at Conner Prairie. “But it did not
hold up as well.” Made from local
clays, delft was tin-glazed white with
blue or polychrome patterns. It got its
name from the Dutch city that was long
the center of its production, but by the
end of the sixteenth century it was being
made in England as well. Delft found its
way across the Atlantic with the earliest
colonists, particularly in Dutch settlements
along the Hudson River (but
don’t forget the Plymouth Pilgrims
spent twenty years in Holland, too).

Your guest will find delft familiar.
Plates and bowls look like modern
ceramics except for their more primitive
colors, patterns, and lack of uniformity.
In early colonial times, delft
was handmade without machine precision.
Every plate was unique, and
none was perfect. A table set with delft
is appropriate for a modest home at
least up to the Revolutionary War.”

As shown at right, Delft
was an early, inexpensive alternative to porcelain. Julia Smith
made these reproduction pieces including the dish, mug, master
salt and albarello, a large 17th c. ointment pot. The spoon, by
Pewter Reproductions, features a trefoil end
that would be used for stabbing food in lieu of a fork. The
handblown Roemer glass wears the Seraph’s housebrand.

PEWTER

At the time the first colonials arrived in
America, only the wealthy could afford
pewter. By the beginning of the eighteenth
century, however, it was becoming
the favored tableware for the burgeoning
merchant class. “Pewter gave
a nice shine to the tables of people who
did not have access to silver,” Harper
says. Its metallic luster gave a richer
look than mere wood, and it could be
cast into any shape—from plate to tea
kettle, even spoons and forks. Better
still it didn’t readily break (as treen and
delft might) and if it was dented, a
hammer made quick (though perhaps
inelegant) repairs. Or it could be recycled
into new table settings.

Pewter is appropriate for any table
set to mimic eighteenth-century times,
particularly around the Revolution.
Spun pewter—the thinner, more elegant
ware—came later, after about
1815, so be picky what you use for
setting an accurate eighteenth-century
table. Old pewter may contain lead in
its alloy, so use only modern, lead-free
reproductions to eat from.

As shown at left, pewter
moved from upper class estates in the 17th c. to merchant class
homes in the 18th c. The tin-based alloy could be cast into
almost any kind of tableware including the plates, bowls, salt
& pepper, pitcher and teapot shown here, all from the Seraph
stockroom (similar items are available from many hand-crafters).
The three-pronged fork, accurate to the 18th c. period,would be
used for stabbing food, not for placing morsels in the mouth.

REDWARE

Not everyone could afford pewter or
imported Delft. But busy American
hands made do with the materials they
had, like iron-stained red clay. With a
primitive wheel, some lead for glazing,
and a wood-fired kiln, they made
redware. “With redware we are talking
very cheap,” Cook says. “It is usually
locally produced of local clay.” Redware
dishes might have been a little
rough, but they were ready for any
meal that might be heaped atop them.
To brighten the table, the potter could
add a quick design in slip, sgrafitto, or
even sculpt the clay a bit.

For the modest table, redware is
appropriate for any period after America’s
embryonic years. Cheap massproduced
pottery pushed it off most
tables by the nineteenth century, but if
you’re out on the frontier, far, far west
(say Kentucky or even distant Indiana),
redware might serve you until the Civil
War. But choose reproduction redware
rather than real antiques, Cook warns.
“You don’t want to eat off old redware
because of the lead in the glaze. Make
sure it has lead-free glaze if you buy it
new. A leaded glaze has more of a
glossy look. It makes the redware look
better, but you cannot eat off it.”

As shown at right, redware,
locally made and inexpensive, might be found in any early
American home after the early colonial years. Julia Smith threw
the mug while the rest of this redware is from the Seraph.
Family Heirloom Weavers made the table runner; Weaver’s
Corner, the serviette (napkin). The candlestick is from the Tin
Peddler and the big pewter spoon, Pewter Reproductions.

CHINESE EXPORT

Those with wealth enough to import
their tableware (or seafaring families
who might import their own) would
show off their fortune by celebrating
with expensive Canton porcelain. Centuries
earlier the Chinese had discovered
the secrets of making true porcelain—
special kaolin clay and a high
firing temperature—and had developed
their skills to an art. “Europeans could
not figure out how to make it, so they
held it in high regard,” Cook says. “It
was hard to get and very expensive.”
To impress guests, a wealthy
landowner or merchant in the eighteenth
century or earlier would bring out his
porcelain. But true porcelain fell from
favor after Johannn Friedrich Böttger
figured out the Chinese secret in 1709,
and later in the century when Josiah
Wedgwood created attractive but less
expensive creamware, which he called
Queen’s ware. Even today, Chinese porcelain
makes an elegant table indeed.

As shown at left, Chinese
export porcelain, sometimes called Canton ware, might be found
in a wealthy planter’s estate or home of a sea captain. The
pattern reproduced here is Blue Willow, still in production by
many chinaware makers. The serviette is from Weavers Corner and
the teapot from Madison Bay. Although the pineapples are
artificial, the real fruit might be found as a sign of
hospitality in colonial homes.